
Gass 7 u() 6- A'-/ 



IN THE VANGUARD 



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IN THE VANGUARD 



BY 
KATRINA TRASK 



Nm fork 

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

19 14 

AU rights reserved 



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Copyright, 1913, 
By the MACMILLAN COMPANY 
Set up and electrotyped. Published March, 1013. 
Reprinted June, December, 1913; March, 1914. 



^Luh^EKi CIViSIOM 



il'N 25 »»? 



ACT I 

SCENE I 



IN THE VANGUARD 

ACT I 

SCENE I 

May Day 

The Village Green 

Many large trees stand upon the Common, Flowering shrubs 
grow in profusion upon the turf. To the East, pic- 
turesque houses are seen through the trees; to the West, 
the distant hills. Here, the Common is more open; 
there are no trees. In the open space, several girls are 
gaily dancing; their light draperies are blown by the 
wind. Dancing, they wind in and out of a long garland 
woven of flowers, and as they dance, they sing. 

The Girls 
Singing. 

Merrily dawns the month of May! 
Primroses pink and white, 
The golden sun is glad to-day: 
The stars will laugh to-night. 
Weave, weave the garland gay, 
To greet the month of May! 



4 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

happy are the song-birds now, 
May's plumage on their breasts! 
Secure within the blossoming bough 
They build their hidden nests. 
Weave, weave the garland gay, 
To greet the month of May! 

First Girl 

Eagerly J stopping the dance. 
There comes Elsa! 

Second Girl 

Disdainfully. 

Bah! I hate her proud ways. 

First Girl 

Indignantly, 

Proud? — Elsa? — How absurd ! Elsa is adorable ! 

Second Girl 
Not proud? Look at the way she carries her head ! 
She looks as though she thought we were the dust 
under her feet. 

First Girl 
She can't help the way her head is set on her 
shoulders ! She walks like that in her bath-room. 
The Girls laugh. 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 5 

She does! I was there the other day — She was 
washing her hands — and she looked like one of 
the statues in the new Museum that Mr. Greart 
gave to the town; that one where the goddess is 
standing before the altar; Elsa looked as though 
she were performing a religious rite. 

Third Girl 

What a goose you are, Molly! Elsa is awfully 
nice, but she isn't much like a goddess; she wears 
too good clothes. 

Second Girl 
She is too top-lofty for me; I don't like her! 

Minnie 

Sarcastically, 

Poor Elsa! How can she possibly bear it! 

One of the Younger Girls 

Impetuously, 

I love her! What do you think, Minnie? Do you 
think she looks like a goddess? 

Minnie 
I think she is herself — that makes her a goddess! 



6 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

Third Girl 

You always talk such conundrums, Minnie. How 
could she be anyone but herself? 

Minnie 
Easily — we none of us are. 

Third Girl 
Are what? 

Minnie 
Ourselves. 

The Rector's Daughter 

Who inherits her Father^ s lack of humour. 
Who are we then? 

Minnie 

I am my Father in second edition, Lizzie is her 

Mother in abstract; you are — 

The Rector's Daughter 
Well, what am I? 

Minnie 
O never mind! 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 7 

First Girl 
Here comes Elsa! 

Between the trees ^ at the East end of the Common, a young 
girl enters; her swift step gives the suggestion of winged 
feet. She hears herself proudly, and yet with a gracious 
directness and simplicity; she is tall, lithe, beautiful; 
she is dressed in unrelieved white; she carries an open 
hook; this is Eisa, 

The Girls 
Come, Elsa! Come, join our May-dance! 
The Girls hold out the garland to Elsa and begin to sing again. 

The GniLS 
Singing, 

"Weave, weave the garland gay" — 

Elsa 

O stop dancing — Girls. Sit down — listen — I 
have something to read to you! I have found the 
most delicious thing! It is a picture of what we 
all feel these days — these stirring days, when war 
is in the air. 

Elsa sits upon the turf. The girls throw down the garland 
and seal themselves around her. 

The Rector's Daughter 
Elsa, did you know Jack is going to the war? 



8 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

Elsa 

With a nod of approbation. 
Certainly — he is a soldier. 

Second Girl 

Looking at Elsa keenly. 
How about Philip? 

Elsa 

Evasively. 

Philip is not a soldier. "^ 

The Rector's Daughter 

Philip is a lawyer. Father told me yesterday 
that Philip has been offered a partnership with 
Stickley and Stowett. Father says that's wonder- 
ful for so young a man. Did you know it, Elsa? 

Elsa 

Philip told me. {Drawing herself up, the colour 
rising in her cheeks). I wish I were a man — 
nothing should keep me from this glorious war — 
this fight for the right. 

Second Girl 

Aside. 

Affectation. 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 9 

Elsa 
Shall I read? 

The Girls 
Yes — Yes — Read! 

Elba 

This is an ancient chronicle; — but it is as modern 
as we are! What joy to find in a book the things 
one has always said in one's own heart! 

Minnie 

Isn't it? I had an idea, for a long while, which I 
cherished in secret and wouldn't tell anyone — I 
was afraid they would think me raving mad or an 
imbecile — one day I was reading a new scientific 
book of Father's, and there I found my secret idea 
set forth at great length as the newest discovery in 
science. 

The Rector's Daughter 
What was it? 

Minnie 
I wouldn't tell you for a tiara. 



lo IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

The Rector's Daughter 
Why not? 

Minnie 
You wouldn't think it proper. 

The Rector's Daughter 
Oh--! 

First Girl 

Go on, Elsa! Minnie, don't interrupt again. You 
always interrupt. 

Minnie 
I always have something to say, that's the reason. 

Two young men, Philip and Jack, appear at the left — the 
trees hide them — they are unseen by the girls, who are 
absorbed in Elsa and her book. Jack is a dapper, 
handsome little man with merry eyes and a pert mous- 
tache. Philip is tall and sinewy, as clean-shaven as a 
monk. His eyes are the eyes of a dreamer but his chin 
and mouth are the chin and mouth of a man of action 
and of power. He is not handsome — at least that is 
the first impression — but after one has decided that 
he is not handsome, one turns to look at him again. 
Few of the girls have decided the question, but the per- 
petual discussion of it between them holds evidence in 
Philip's favour. 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD n 

Elsa 

Turning over the leaves of her booh. 

I won't read the story — only this paragraph which 
I must share with you. 

Reading with a responsive thrill in her voice. 

"The Maiden was very beauteous to behold; she 
was the daughter of an ancient Sage, greatly 
honoured of all men. The Sage was a builder of 
books, of vast learning and of great knowledge. 
The renown of his wisdom had spread throughout 
the kingdoms of the world. 

"Now the maiden cared not overmuch for the 
musty books and dusty parchments of her Father; 
she loved great and doughty deeds, perilous ad- 
ventures, the clash of arms, and knights victorious, 
the crowned conqueror in the lists, the triumphant 
in battle. 

"And lo! The Maiden sat in the ancient Hall of 
the moated castle, and suitors came to her — 
according to the choice and will of her Father. 
One came, a learned scholar, a master of languages 
long dead. One came, a tribune of the people, 
much versed in state-craft. One came who knew 
the science of the stars and the secrets of the earth. 
"From beneath lowered lashes the Maiden looked 
on each — she looked and turned away. 



12 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

"Thou art difficult to please, my Daughter,' her 
Father said with grave displeasure. 
"The Maiden answered with scornful lips and 
proud disdain, 'Father, I will marry none but a 
Hero/ 

"Straightway, she clasped her mantle aroimd her, 
drew her veil across her face, and went out from 
the Hall into the forest. Deep in the heart of the 
forest, she threw back her veil, unclasped her 
mantle, and stretching wide her arms looked up to 
the sky, which glimpsed between the branches of 
the trees; she laughed softly and said over and 
over, as though it were a song she loved to sing, 
"'I will marry none but a Hero.' She waited as 
for a reply, and then, added, still laughing low, 
'Books are dreary and stale; wisdom is for the 
aged and the weary; but a free-born maiden, with 
warm red blood throbbing through her veins, will 
only lay down the shield of her heart to a Man of 
Valour — a Doer of Deeds — a Hero.' " 

Elsa pauses. 

The Girls 

Clapping their hands. 

Good — Good! Splendid! True! 

Philip and Jack step out from behind the trees; the girls start 
with surprise, and rise. 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 13 

Jack 

My eyes, what a hoity-toity young lady! I say, 
Philip, she was a suffragette. Those men were 
well out of it with that minx ! 

Philip 
She wasn't a minx. Jack, she was a sphinx. 

Elba 

QuicUy, 

What was her riddle? 

Philip 
Her own heart. 

Jack 
I say, Elsa — heroes don't grow on bushes. 

Elsa 
Scornfully, 

Alas! That is too true — they are rare enough to 
be museum specimens. 

Philip 

Speaking with mock solemnity. 

Your analysis proves you have not studied the 
subject. Mademoiselle. 



14 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

Elsa 

With more heat than the fun warrants. 

Indeed I have studied it — and searched for it — 
them, I mean — and I do not find it — them, I 
mean — except in books. 

Philip looks at her a moment and then bows low, 

Philip 

In an inimitable voice. 

O Maiden, more charming than wise, 

'Tis not he who vahantly dies 
Who alone is the Hero! Ah me! 
The bravest of heroes is he 
Who dares to look deep in your eyes. 
The girls laugh. 

Elba 

With bewitching mockery. 

Sir Poet — of Stickley and Stowett! — 

I pray you let your Hero know it; 

If his valour depends 

On the eyes of his friends. 

It were better for him to forgo it. 

The girls laugh. 

Jack 
That's one on you, Phil. 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 15 

The Rector's Daughter 

Holding out her hand to Philip with ejfusion. 

I must congratulate you, Philip. Father told us 
about Stickley offering you a partnership. He 
said it was tremendous luck to be taken into that 
Firm. 

Philip 
Thank you. 

Minnie 

O why did you come — you men? You have 
spoiled everything. Elsa, please read. 

Jack 

Yes, do, Elsa. I want to know what happened to 
that sphinx-minx in the woods. I'll bet she cried 
quarts before the day was up, and spoiled her 
best veil. 

Several of the Girls 
Read, Elsa. Read! 

Elsa 

Smiling. 

In this presence? Never! 



i6 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

Minnie 
Well then, I'm going home, it is time for luncheon. 

Jack 

I call that mesmerism, Minnie. I have been willing 
you to go, for the last haK hour. 

The Rector's Daughter 
Jack, are you really going to the war? 

Jack 
You bet I am! 

The Rector's Daughter 
How awful! 

Jack 
Awful? It's perfectly bully! 

The Rector's Daughter 
But you might get shot. 

Jack 

Shot? Imagine me shot! How would I look shot? 
That's not my style. No, my dear, I bear a 
charmed life. Bullets cannot penetrate the pan- 
oply of armour that I wear. 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 17 

The Rector's Daughter 
ReaUy? 

Jack 
ReaUy and truly, black and bluely. Ask Minnie. 

The Rector's Daughter 
What does he mean, Minnie? 

Minnie 
Scornfully. 

I haven't the faintest idea; neither has he. 

Jack 

I say, Minnie, it isn't becoming to your beauty, 
when you curl your lip like that! If you don't 
start soon, I'll give up my belief in mesmerism. 

Minnie 
Come, Elsa. 
Elsa is Jar too clever to spoil a ttte-dritte. 

Elsa 

I want the air. I've not been dancing all the 
morning. Au revoir. 

Minnie and Jack walk of together and the other girls follow j 
two by two. Elsa sits again upon the turf. 



i8 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

Philip 

Courteously, 

May I stay, Elsa? 

Elsa 
The Village Green is free. 

Philip 

Not now. When you are here it is royal ground. 
I have something to tell you. May I stay? 

Elsa waves her hand to the turf with a gracious acquiescence, 
Philip throws himself upon the ground and looks up 
into her face. He looks at her a moment, then speaks 
as though compelled. 

You are very beautiful. 

Elsa 

A trifle impatiently. 

Is that your news? I do not like personalities. 

Philip 

Pardon me, that is your limitation. You should 
be so impersonal that you are above personalities; 
you should be so free from egoism that you are 
unconscious of the ego. 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 19 

£lsa 

Laughing. 

You always make nonsense sound like sense, 
Philip. What is your news? 

Philip 

I told you, the other day, of the good fortune that 
has come to me — 

Elsa 

Somewhat scornfiMy, 

that! — {She rises and makes a sweeping cour- 
tesy). I salute you, Mr. Attorney-at-law — of 
the firm of Stickley and Stowett — Counsellor, 
Judge j Lord Chief Justice-to-be! 

Phtlip 

Seriously. 

No — it is not that. 

Elsa 

Looking at him with sudden apprehension. 
Has anything happened, Philip? 

She sits again beside him. 

Philip 

1 have thrown up the place — I have enlisted. 



20 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

Elsa 

With shining eyes. 

Enlisted? — You? 

Philip 

Yes. Why not I? I have always intended to go, 
from the very first moment, but I did not talk of 
it. I should rather be a soldier than anything in 
the world! My fingers ache to punish that out- 
rageous Nation for its cruel oppression — I long 
to be a part of the rescue to the oppressed. I 
waited, hoping that I might be able to get a Com- 
mission — I thought I could arrange it, but I 
cannot; I have no political pull; neither has Father; 
so I have enlisted as a private for a year. They 
think the war will be short, sharp and decisive. 
They are taking volunteers for a year. I shall have 
to win my Commission before the year is up. 

Elsa 

With kindling enthusiasm. 

You will win it! Did you not always win, in all 
the games and in everything you ever tried to do? 

Philip 

Significantly. 

No — not always, Elsa. 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 21 

Elsa 

Ignoring his evident meaning. 
You will win in war. 

Philip 
I take that as a prophecy. 

Elsa 

Why did you not tell me you intended to go? 

Philip 
I did not tell anyone. 

Elsa 

With glowing cheeks. 

But I am not anyone — and you talked with me 
only last week of your future. You told me of 
Stickley's offer. 

Philip 

With emotion. 

That was the warrant for my daring. I should not 
have waited all these months except that I had to 
know my future was secure. After I left the 
University, I did not know where I stood; my 
luck came sooner than I thought; and the moment 
it came, I went to you, for then I had a warrant; 



22 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

now, I have a double warrant — the Army and 
the Law; Stickley says he will keep my place open 
for any length of time. (With a crestfallen air). 
But — 

Elba 

Interrupting, her cheeks glowing. 
Philip, I will tell you a secret — a great secret. 
I was frantic the other night, when you spoke to 
me; I have been for weeks — disappointed, an- 
gry, — that you were settling down to Law when 
I felt you should go to war — to this glorious war! 

Philip 

Smiling. 

That is no secret; I knew it all the time; and I 
knew, also, all the time, that I was going. 

Elsa 
Embarrassed. 

Philip, you are so — so — 

Philip 
Well! 

Elsa 

So different from other men — {after a pause, a 
sudden tenderness welling within her). 
Will you forgive me? 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 23 

Philip 

Astonished at the word. 

Forgive you? 

Elsa 

Yes — for doubting you — for the limerick — O 
for everything! Will you? 

Philip 
I love you. 

Elsa starts — the colour sweeps over her face and brow. 

I promised you, Elsa, that I would not speak to 
you again, just yet ■ — but — if I live — 

Elsa 

Her voice trembling. 

If you live! 

Philip 

If I come home victorious — then I will ask you 
once more the question of my heart. 

Elsa turns toward Philip; the colour deepens in her cheeks, 
the light deepens in her eyes. She hesitates for a mo- 
ment; she is about to lift the veil of her reserve; she looks 
across the Common; then rises quickly, and as though 
to throw of her emotion, speaks lightly and with the 
bright gaiety for which she is distinguished. 



24 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

Elsa 

I must go home at once or Mother will be sending 

out the Town Crier. 

She starts to move away; Philip starts to follow her. 

No, — please, — Philip. — Don't come. Look — 

John Judson is crossing the Common — intercept 

him — let me escape — I could not stand him 

just now. 

She walks away swiftly, 

Philip 

Looking after her, 

I will win! — And I will win her! 



ACT I 

SCENE n 



ACT I 

SCENE II 
A Week Later. Morning 

The Village Green 
A group of excited and expectant boys on the Green. 

The Boys 

Singing. 

Get your gun, get your gun, 

And shoot them every one. 

Let them fly, let them die, 

Let them perish as they run. 

Get your gun, get your gun, 

O go and get your gun! 
Several girls run in. 

First Girl 

Did you see the soldiers? Aren't they jolly? — 
the brass buttons and the gold braid. 

Second Girl 

My stars! How handsome the men look in their 
uniforms! 

27 



28 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

Third Girl 
Do they march this afternoon? 

First Boy 

Yes, and they are going to drill now, down hy the 
Old Mill. Don't miss 'em. 

Music is heard in the distance. The Boys dl run of. 

The Girls 
Come — let us go, too! 

They follow the Boys, 
Enter Elsa, 

Elba 

Eagerly. 

Martial music ! How thrilling it all is ! Even Jack 
looks transformed — and as for Philip — 

Enter Philip, hurriedly; he wears the uniform of a private. 

Philip 

Elsa — I am glad — you are here — I went to 
your house — I feared I should miss you — 

Elba 

Apprehensively. 
What is it, Philip? 



ACT I] IN THE VANGUARD 29 

Philip 
I came to say good-bye. 

Elsa 
Startled. 

Good-bye? To-day? — I thought your regiment 
did not go until next week? 

Philip 

The plan is changed — we, also, march this after- 
noon. 

He holds out his hand. Elsa silently ptUs her hand in his — 
he looks down at her earnestly; to his surprise he sees 
tears in her eyes; his face becomes illumined; his voice 
vibrant with emotion, 

Elsa — I know, now, that I may hope. 

EUa unfastens a rose from her bodice and gives it to him for 
answer. 

He kisses it, 

A rose of promise ! I will keep it until death. 

Elsa 

Trembling. 

Don't say that word! 



30 IN THE VANGUARD [Act i 

Philip 

Laughing lightly. 

I face death to find new life. 

Elsa with effort throws of the shadow from her spirit. 

Elsa 

Don't you remember when we were at school, you 
called me "Sybil," for you said what I predicted 
always came to pass? Let me prophesy now. You 
will win — honor — victory — fame! 

Philip 
And then — Elsa? 

Elsa 

Fascinatingly. 

O then you will be Captain. 

Philip 
And then — Elsa? 

Elsa 

Almost inaudihly. 

You will be the ' Captain of my Soul.' 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 31 

Philip 
My Beloved. 

He takes her hand and lends over it reverently. 

The notes of a bugle are heard in the distance. 

Elsa — I must go — Good-bye. 

Elsa 

Softly, 

Good-bye. 

She swallows a lump in her throat and blinks fast; she draws 
herself up, stands at attention and makes a salute^ as 
she has seen the men do at drill; all the while she is 
laughing and sparkling, 

Philip, catching the spirit of her resolve, gives the military 
salute, with distinction, and leaves her, marching of 
to the right; when he reaches the trees which will shut 
Elsa from his sight, he stands still, and looks back at 
her for a moment, his soul in his eyes. Then he dis- 
appears, 

Elsa 

Looking towards the trees which hide Philip from her sight, 
O Philip — Philip — 
She bursts into tears. 



ACT I 

SCENE ni 



ACT I 

SCENE III 
Two Months Later. Afternoon 

The Village Green 

Two hoys are wrestling. Four other boySy standing ahoid, 
applaud and urge them on. 

First Boy 
Go it, Jim — I bet on you. 

Second Boy 
Give it to him, Billy — Give it to him! 

A Seventh Boy, greatly excited, runs in from the left. 

Seventh Boy 

Shouting. 

Hello! D'you want to hear the news? 

The boys stop wrestling and all gather around him with 
curiosity; with much satisfaction, he keeps them waiting 
a few minutes, holding his news in leash and looks 
from one to the other with an air of importance, 
35 



36 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

First Boy 
Out with it! Out with it! 

Second Boy 
What's the matter with you? 

Seventh Boy 

With the air of a herald. 
WeVe won a battle! 
Great excitement follows. 

Second Boy 
Honest? No guy? 

Seventh Boy 

Honest Injun. News just come in. — VlHiipped 
'em to a frazzle! 

The boys set up a loud cheer and begin to make things gener- 
ally hideous with antics and noise. 

First Boy 

Looking across the Common. 

Cheese it! Cheese it! Stop your hollering. There 
comes the G. O. M. 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 37 

Second Boy 

O he doesn't mind noise. Hurrah — he's home 
again! He's a brick! 

Third Boy 
You bet he's a brick. 

First Boy 
He's a cracker- jack and golly but he's rich! 

Fourth Boy 

He's a brick and a cracker-jack all right, but he 
preaches too much. 

Third Boy 

Shut up! His preaching's a sight better than the 
Rector's. It hasn't got any religion in it. 

First Boy 

O yes it has; it's got the kind of religion that gets 
inside of you. 

Fourth Boy 
In an awed voice. 

Father says he's an awful infidel. 



38 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

First Boy 

What are you giving us? It's a blamed shame to 
call the G. O. M. names and don't you forget it. 
Look at this town — what would it be if it weren't 
for him? 

Fourth Boy 

Who is a prig. 

Giving money and building buildings don't make 
a man good. No Sir-ee! There he is! Maybe 
he'll tell us about his trip. 

First Boy 

Gee hoo! There's the Rector coming the other 
way, no use trying to talk to the G. O. M. now. 
Let's run, lickety split! I haven't been to Sunday 
School in a month. No juvenile court for me this 
afternoon, if you please. 

Second Boy 
Nor for me — not on yoiir life! 

The hoys give the street yell and run away just as Mr. Greart 
enters at the left and the Rector enters at the right. 

Mr. Greart is a very young man very many years old. He has 
silver white hair, eyes as brown as a robin's and as keen as 
an eagle's. He has an irresistible smile, and carries 
himself as erect and as straight as an old pine tree of 
the forest; every boy, every girl, and every little child in 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 39 

the village loves Greart. He is lavishly generous to the 
children, hut his generosity is tonical and not enervat- 
ing. He stimulates rather than spoils them by his in- 
dulgences. 
The Rector is a pompous man with an ingratiating smile, 
but expressionless eyes; he wears extreme clerical 
dress — he lifts his hat with exaggerated deference, 
and speaks in low unctuous tones. 

The Rector 

Good morning, Mr. Greart — Good morning! 
Glad to see you home again. I hope you are well, 
Sir — quite well? 

Mr. Greart 

Thank you. Doctor, I am veiy ill. 

The Rector 

111, Sir? — 111? — You don't tell me; I am sorry 
to hear that. Nothing serious, I hope — nothing 
serious. 

Mr. Greart 

The most serious thing in civilization — War. 

The Rector 

Puzzled. 

I don't think I follow you. Sir, I don't think I 
follow you. 



40 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

Mr. Greart 
This accursed war has made me bilious. 

The Rector 
Accursed war, Sir? Why, this is God's holy war. 

Mr. Greart 

Laughing. 

That is the kind of God you worship? No wonder 
the churches are empty! 

The Rector 

Drawing himself up. 

We number three hundred and fifty communicants, 
and the present Confirmation Class numbers 
twenty-five — a goodly number — a goodly niun- 
ber. 

Mr. Greart 

My dear Doctor, don't you know that your com- 
municants might number three hundred thousand, 
if you preached a logical God? 

The Rector 

Ingratiatingly. 

Pardon me, my dear Mr. Greart, if I make a sug- 
gestion, in a friendly way, all in a friendly way. 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 41 

This habit of facetiousness you indulge in, I 
fear affects your influence. / understand it, my 
dear Sir, but others may not. I know that your 
heart is in the right place. It is true that you are 
not a member of the Church, but you are most 
generous to Her, always. By the by, I really must 
thank you again, although you forbade me, for 
our most magnificent Parish House. You don't 
know what you have done for us — you don't 
know what you have done. 

Mr. Greart 

I know perfectly well; you needed it sadly. I did 
it for the children. 

The Rector 

It was not for the children that you added my 
ample and luxurious study — it was a munificent 
gift, Mr. Greart, a munificent gift, and I thank 
you. 

Mr. Greart 

Cordially, 

I am glad you like it. Doctor; your life of self- 
sacrifice deserves good gifts. 



42 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

The Rector 

Elated. 

You are very generous in what you say — praise 
from Sir Hubert, you know! — Praise from Sir 
Hubert! 

Mr. Greart 

By the by, Doctor, I wish you would let me add a 
theatre to the Parish House, and give the children 
good plays on Sunday after Sunday School. 

The Rector 

Mr. Greart! — I really — I must say — A theatre 
after Sunday School! x^ 

Mr. Greart 
You know we differ. Doctor. 

The Rector 

Yes, Sir — but I had hoped — it has been a great 
pleasure to see you in the sanctuary, of late — a 
very great pleasure. 

Mr. Greart 
It amuses me to go. 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 43 

The Rector 

Startled. 

Amuses you, Sir? 

Mr. Greart 

Lack of logic always amuses me. Logic is the 
foundation of life. 

The Rector 

Irritated. 

I fail to understand you, Mr. Greart. 

Mr. Greart 

The last Sunday I was at Church, before I went 
away, you talked most eloquently about the God 
of Battles, and ended with an invocation to the 
God of Peace; how can a logical God possibly be 
a God of Battles and a God of Peace at the same 
time? 

The Rector 
Peace after battle, Mr. Greart, Peace after battle. 

Mr. Greart 

That is not Peace, that is merely the cessation of 
hostilities, merely a negation. Peace is a posi- 
tive — a great constructive, conclusive, abiding 



44 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

force — an altitude of the soul — the soul of a 
person or the soul of a nation. 

The Rector 
My dear Sir, if you read history — 

Mr. Greart 

Interrupting, 

I have read history, that's what's the matter. I 
find that all the wars in the world have never 
stopped war. The clever philosopher, Christ, who 
had a way of seeing all around a subject, was quite 
right when He said, "They that take the sword 
shall perish with the sword" — they always do — 
it has been the final nemesis, sooner or later, of 
all warlike nations. 

The Rector 

In a reproachful and solemn tone. 

Our blessed Lord, Who is not a philosopher but 
Who is "Very God of Very God" said, "I come 
not to bring Peace but a sword." 

Mr. Greart 

A trifle sharply. 

I cannot hear Christ's words so misinterpreted; 
I admire Him too profoundly. 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 45 

The Rector 

With asperity. 

Tut, tut — Mr. Greart. 

Mr. Greart 

The word Christ used is separation, division, — 
^ ^ I come not to bring Peace but Separation. ' ' Even 
if sword is the correct translation, it is perfectly 
manifest it is used as an illustration. Christ 
says — "I came not to send Peace, but a sword. 
For I am come to set a man at variance against his 
father, and the daughter against her mother, and 
the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law." 
Do you think the great Teacher meant for one mo- 
ment that it was His mission to bring a sword — 
as such — between a mother and a daughter? — 
Fiddle-de-dee! 

The Rector 

Growing red in the face. 
I must say — 

Mr. Greart 

For Heaven's sake, why can't we use the same 
common sense in interpreting the words of Christ 
that we do in interpreting the words of any other 



46 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

writer or teacher? Shakespeare, for example, 
says — "Jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty 
mountain tops." 

Nobody is fool enough to argue from those words 
that Shakespeare thought day was a veritable 
maiden with actual toes. 



The Rector 

Distinctly ruffled. 

Really, Mr. Greart, you have a most irreverent 
way of speaking; at times you seem almost profane. 

Mr. Greart 

I can imderstand a man defending war on pagan 
groimds, but I protest in the name of Justice 
against making Christ an apologist for war; he 
is the Apostle of Peace, and it irritates me to 
have perfectly manifest meanings twisted to suit 
the belligerent spirit of humanity. In this in- 
stance, at least, which is the one most often quoted, 
it is quite ridiculous to believe that the word 
sword is not used as an illustration of separation. 
There is always a sharp sword of separation divid- 
ing two persons of diametrically opposite views 
of life — dividing you and me, for example. 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 47 

The Rector 

With an assumption of dignity. 

I fear we are very definitely divided. 

Mr. Greart 

Goodnaturedly, 

Certainly; I believe in Peace; you believe in War; 
the sword of the spirit separates us completely. 

The Rector 
Losing his temper. 

Do you mean to say that I do not believe in Peace? 
I — I? — 

"How beautiful are the feet of' them that preach 
the Gospel of Peace!" 

Mr. Greart 

With one lung you do breathe the benediction of 
Peace most eloquently, but with the other, my 
Friend, you certainly blow the tnunpet of 
Battle! 

The Rector 

Stiffly, 

I bid you good morning, Mr. Greart. 



48 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

Mr. Greart 

Holding out his hand in a way no one cotitd resist. 

Now please don't be offended, Doctor. I cannot 
for the life of me mix the two any more than I can 
mix darkness and daylight. It is all a matter of 
logic; if you can show me how to do it, I shall be 
grateful, for I delight in mental gymnastics. 

The Rector 
Faith is higher than logic, Mr. Greart — Faith is 
higher than logic. 

Mr. Greart 
I grant you that — as much higher as the arch 
springing from the pavement is higher than the 
foundation; but it must be a faith founded on 
logic. 

The Rector 
Softening to a patronising tone. 

You have, sometimes, a strange manner, Mr. 
Greart, but I think you are all right at heart. 

Mr. Greart 

With his irresistible smile. 

Thank you. Doctor, I like your article on " Bees " 
in "The Country Gentleman." I read it with 
much interest. It is well done. 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 49 

The Rector 
Mtich mollified. 

That is very kind of you. I hope I shall see you 
at Even Song to-day, Mr. Greart. We are to have 
a special thanksgiving for this great victory vouch- 
safed to us. 

A quizzical look comes into Mr. Grearfs eyes; he has often 
been heard to say that he finds few things so humorous 
as the Rector^ s utter lack of the sense of humour. 

Mr. Greart 

That reminds me. I had a most remarkable dream 
last night. 

The Rector 

Dreams interest me extremely. Since the time 
of Joseph they have been significant. 

Mr. Greart 

I wonder, Doctor, if you can interpret my dream 
for me! 

The Rector 
Pray let me hear it. 

Mr. Greart 

I dreamed that I stood upon a high place between 
the heavens and the earth, and I saw before me a 



so IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

beautiful angel with shining opalescent wings, and 
I knew in my dream that it was Sandalphon, the 
Angel of Prayer. He, it is, the legend says, who 
stands ready to carry the prayers of the children 
of men to the Lord of Hosts. 

The Rector 

Most interesting, my dear Sir, most interesting. 
I know the old legend well. 

Mr. Greart 

And in my dream, it was as in the legend, the 

prayers, ascending, changed into flowers that 

Sandalphon might carry them to the Lord. And 

I heard a mighty murmur — 

"Save this people, Lord! 

"Deliver us from the hands of our enemies. Abate 

their pride, assuage their malice, smite them and 

bring destruction upon them. Grant us victory, 

O Lord." And I knew it was the prayers of the 

men of the East going forth to war with the men 

of the West. As I waited, I heard another mighty 

murmur — 

"Save this people, Lord! 

" DeHver us from the hands of our enemies. Abate 

their pride, assuage their malice, smite them and 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 51 

bring destruction upon them. Grant us victory, 
O Lord." 

And I knew it was the prayers of the men of the 
West, going forth to fight the men of the East. 
There stood Sandalphon — and I assure you, he 
looked as puzzled as a Dutch lawyer. 

The Rector 

Growing angry. 

Tut, tut — Mr. Greart! 

Mr. Greart 

A tough problem for Sandalphon, wasn't it? Most 
embarrassing position, I must say, to carry to the 
Lord the same prayers from opposite camps. You 
are right. Doctor; faith is higher than logic, but 
one side or the other is up against it, in that kind 
of faith. 

The Rector 
Sir — Sir — 

Mr. Greart 
No offence. Doctor! It was only a dream. 

To the manifest relief of the Rector, who is glad of any straw 
to save the situation, Elsa comes tripping across the Common. 



/ 

52 IN THE VANGUARD [i6t i 



The Rector / 

Holding Old his hand to detain her. 
How do you do, Elsa? 

Elsa 

Shaking hands. 

How do you do, Rector. Isn't the news splendid? 

Turning to Mr. Greart, holding out her hand to him. 

Mr. Greart, I am so glad to see you! We have 
missed you! The village is not the same place 
when you are away. 

Mr. Greart 
Thank you, Elsa. 

Elsa 

Turning to the Rector. 

I've had a letter from Jack — all is going famously! 

The Rector 

Teasingly. 

No letter from Philip? 

Elsa 

Frankly^ the colour rising to her cheeks. 
Yes, from Philip, also. 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 53 

With enthusiasm. 

He is making his mark! He doesn't' say so — he 
is too modest, but I see it between the Knes, and 
Jack says he is winning distinction every day. 

Mr. Greart 
Philip is a fine fellow! 

The Rector 
Elsa, what do you think? Mr. Greart doesn't 
approve of the war; we have been having quite 
an argument on the subject. 

Elsa 
Looking at Mr. Greart in surprise. 
You do not approve of this war? 

Mr. Greart 

Smiling, 

My dear young lady! When you open those great 
eyes of yours like that, and ^ them upon me in 
reproach, I am so rattled that I do not know what 
I do or do not believe. 

Elsa 

Pleadingly. 

No, but seriously Mr. Greart, don't you think 

this war is glorious? Don't you think it is our 



54 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

duty to punish a Nation that has behaved so 
abominably? 

Mr. Greart 

I do not precisely see the logic of behaving abomin- 
ably ourselves in order to punish another Nation 
for behaving abominably to some one else. 

Elsa 

Impatiently. 

That is not fair! 

Mr. Greart 

In a more serious tone. 

My child, I do not believe in war. 

Elsa 

Amazed. 

You do not believe in war? 

Mr. Greart 

Smiling. 

Never — for any reason whatsoever. 
Elsa 

With the air of a doctrinaire. 

What would become of the manly virtues? 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 55 

Mr. Greart 

Now, Elsa, you are not speaking your own lan- 
guage. You are using the idioms of tradition. 
Your words sound like your Father and your 
Grandfather. 

Elsa 

Impetuously. 

All right, then; I will say it in my own words. I 
do not want my brother, nor my men friends, 
to be molly-mushes. 

The Rector 
Excellent, Elsa! Excellent! 

Mr. Greart 

My fair H3^atia, if you are teaching young men, 
let me recommend you to a certain valuable old 
book, a Book of Life and Truth, which hits the 
bull's eye with unerring precision every time. 
There you will find these words — "He that ruleth 
his spirit" is better "than he that taketh a city." 
You may teach your young men that there is 
the fullest scope for every manly virtue, every 
virile quality in the category for the man who 
even tries to conquer himself. 



56 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

Elsa 

With an impatient toss of her head. 

What would a Nation be without its heroes? 

Mr. Greart 
Nothing; but let us have the Heroes of the Durable. 

The Rector 
Heroes of the Durable? I do not follow you. 

Elsa 

What do you mean by Heroes of the Durable? 
It sounds like an incantation. 

Mr. Greart 
Do you know what Napoleon said at St. Helena? 

Elba 

With enthusiasm. 

He is one of my Heroes! I thought I had read 
everything he ever said, but I do not remember 
anything about the "Heroes of the Durable." 

Mr. Greart 

He did not use that term, but he said this: "The 
more I study the world, the more am I convinced 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 57 

of the inability of brute force to create anything 
durable." 

Elsa 
Did Napoleon say that? 

Mr. Greart 

He did; but he said it too late; he said it after 
he had shed rivers of blood, mangkd myriad 
armies, desolated and depopulated the world; we 
may learn of him and arrive at his final conclusion 
in the beginning, if we will. 

Elba 

With heat. 

He didn't mean it ! He only said it to get even with 
his destiny when he was at St. Helena, and could 
not use brute force any longer. 

Mr. Greart 

What did Napoleon gain by all the barren glory 
of his arms? 

Elsa 

Ardently. 

He gained my love! 



58 IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

Mr. Greart 

With old-fashioned gallantry. 

That is the first argument that I have ever heard 
in favour of war that has made the slightest im- 
pression upon me. 

Elsa 

Thoughtfully. 

How can there be Heroes of the Durable? 

Mr. Greart 

Those who have sacrified self to service — the 
Scientists, the Educators, the Upbuilders of the 
Nation, the Reformers, those are the true heroes — 
those who give and spend themselves for the Dur- 
able — the eternal forces of life. 

Elsa 

With glowing cheeks and eyes. 

You may have them all! Give me the brave 
fighters; keen-eyed, long-limbed, daring soldiers, 
who go forth fearlessly to fight for the Right, ready 
to spend their strength and spill their blood for 
their country. 

Mr. Greart looks at Elsa admiringly and smiles at her en- 
thusiasm. 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 59 

The Rector 

Dogmatically. 

This is the world we live in, Mr. Greart, a world 
of flesh and blood — Eternity lies beyond. 

Mr. Greart 

Eternity is now! If eternity has not begun now, 
then there is none beyond. 

Elsa ponders these words; the Rector opens his mouth to 
answer but changes his mind and the subject at the 
same time. 

The Rector 

Come to the Rectory and have a cup of tea. My 
wife will be glad to see you. 

Mr. Greart 

Thank you, but you must excuse me. I am already 
late for an engagement. Good afternoon, Elsa. 
Good afternoon, Doctor. 

The Rector 
Good afternoon. Sir. 

Elsa 
Farewell — I will see you to-morrow. 
Exit Mr, Greart, 



6o IN THE VANGUARD [act i 

The Rector 

With Pharisaic precision. 

"A rich man shall hardly enter into the Kingdom 
of Heaven." 

Elsa 

Indignantly. 

Rector! If Mr. Greart can't enter Heaven, then I 
do not wish to go there. 

The Rector 

Do not speak like that, Elsa. It is not seemly. 
(Smiling indulgently). But I thought you did not 
agree with Mr. Greart. 

Elsa 

About war? Of course I do not agree with him. 
He is entirely, completely, outrageously wrong 
about that; but I do not have to agree with him to 
know he is just the cleverest, dearest, noblest, 
truest — 

The Rector 

Interrupting. 

Come ! Come ! Elsa ! What will be left for your old 
Rector? 



ACT i] IN THE VANGUARD 6i 

Elsa 

Mischievously. 

I do not see any old Rector. 

The Rector 

Who has a secret but well-known pride in the preservation of 
Ms face and form. 

Well, well, you always know how to get out of a pit. 
Will you come to the Rectory for tea? 

The sound of drums is heard in the distance and Elsa^s 
twinkling feet keep time to the tattoo. 

Elsa 
With pleasure! 



ACT II 

SCENE I 



ACT II 

SCENE I 

Three Months Later 

In the Enemy s Country 

A room that was once exquisitely dainty, but is now muddy, 
dirty, and enveloped in tobacco smoke. Delicate fem- 
inine articles lie soiled or broken on the floor. A soldier 
is lounging in a plush chair, his feet upon a low carved 
table from which have fallen several bits of bric-a-brac. 
He has in his hand a dainty little fan with the end of 
which he is stuffing tobacco into his pipe. Four other 
soldiers are playing cards at a table. 

Philip, in uniform, sits at an open piano and drums upon 
the keys. 

First Soldier 

Shouting. 

Hie, you girl, there! Hurry up with that beer! 
Don't forget the biscuit and cheese. Damn it! 
What keeps you so long? 

Philip continues to play. 

Second Soldier 
Throwing down a card. 
I play the ace. Give us a song, Gordon! 

6s 



66 IN THE VANGUARD [act n 

A young girl enters bearing a pitcher of foaming beer and a 
tray with glasses, biscuit, and cheese. She is a slight 
refined girl. She is trembling, and her face is very pale; 
baffled hatred is in her eyes; she hurriedly places the 
tray and the beer on the table, and turns to leave the 
room; as she reaches the door the First Soldier, the one 
who is lounging in the chair, springs after her. 

FmsT Soldier 
Putting his arm around her. 

By gad, those lips are sweeter than cheese! 

The girl clinches her frail hands and beats them upon the 
burly breast of the man; her eyes blaze. 

The Girl 
I will kill you, if you kiss me! 

The Soldier laughs; the other Soldiers laugh, also. 

First Soldier 
Kill me? Ha, Ha! My pretty butterfly — Nip 
away! Do you think you can stop me? 

Philip jumps suddenly from the piano-stool and surprises 
the man by seizing his arms from behind, thus making 
him release his hold of the girl. 

Philip 
Curtly. 

I can, if she can't. 



ACT n] IN THE VANGUARD 67 

The Girl, released, runs away. 

The Soldier, red and angry, faces Philip. He lunges at 
Philip; they close and wrestle. The man is an excellent 
shot hut no athlete; Philip is both; they wrestle for a 
few minutes, the others look up from their cards with 
interest. Finally, Philip, by a quick turn, throws the 
man on his knees. The Soldiers cheer. 

First Soldier 

Yielding. 

All right — we're quits. 

Philip 

Calmly, going back to the piano. 

We will be, if you leave that young lady alone — 

otherwise — 

Ue strikes a chord and begins to sing. 

The pipers pipe, the drummers beat, 
We hear the sound of tramping feet; 
Our merry men are marching fast; 
For the trumpet blows the welcome blast, 
O the trumpet blows the welcome blast! 

Our gallant troop is glad and gay! 
As we laughing ride away, away, 
We care not what we leave behind; 
For the scent of war is on the wind, 
O the scent of war is on the wind! 



68 IN THE VANGUARD [act n 

The Soldier has come to the piano, during the song, and, 
leaning on it, has listened; slowly his anger has changed 
to good humour. 

First Soldier 

That's jolly! I won't bear you any grudge, but 
— say — I think it was damned priggish to spoil 
a kiss! 

Philip 

Still playing. 

It's not priggish to protect a young lady from 
being insulted — and if it is — I'll continue to be 
a prig. 

One of the Soldiers at the Card Table 

A man who fights as Gordon did, yesterday, can't 
be called a prig, no matter how moral he is. 

Second Soldier 

He has earned the right to kiss any girl he wants, 
or prevent another fellow from kissing her if he 
wants to. If it hadn't been for him, yesterday — 

Philip 

Impatiently. 

O give us a rest! 

He strikes loud chords on the piano to drown their words. 



ACT n] IN THE VANGUARD 69 

First Soldier 

Leaning on the piano and talking so loudly that his voice 
rises above the din of Philip's music. 

Say — I was only taking the rights of war. 

Philip 

Scornfully, emphasising his words with loud musical chords. 

The rights of war! The rights of war! We fight, 
we win a battle, we invade this country, we come 
to this house, we take possession of it; a mother is 
dying up stairs, the servants have run away, a 
young inexperienced girl is alone. We desecrate 
the house, smash her jimcracks — (waving his 
hand towards the room). We smoke out her violet 
perfume with rank tobacco, make her wait on us 
and then kiss her by force! By Jove! It cuts! 

First Soldier 
She's damned lucky. If she had lived years ago — 
in fact, if she lived now in Turkey or any other 
barbarous country — she would be lying in a pool 
of blood. But in civiHsed warfare — 

Philip 

Impatiently. 

In civilised warfare we can be as uncivilised as we 
please provided it is ^'civilised warfare.' ' 



70 IN THE VANGUARD [act n 

First Soldier 

O dry up! You sing better than you talk — go 
on — sing us another song. 

Philip 
Not until I have had some beer. 
Philip goes to the table and helps himself to beer. 



ACT II 
SCENE II 



ACT II 

SCENE II 

Eight Months Later 

In the Enemy s Country, Twilight 

The wooded border of a battle-field after a battle. In the far 
distance are seen men and horses lying on the ground^ 
and from the distance are heard confused, awful sounds. 
In the foreground is the entrance to a quiet bit of wood- 
land. 

Philip J in the uniform of a lieutenant, is standing on the 
edge of the woods. Sick at the horrors, he draws a long 
breath of relief as he leaves the terrible scene of carnage 
behind and approaches this peaceful place. Having 
done his duty of search, he is again at high tension from 
the intoxicating delight of victory and the virile after- 
math of the lust of battle; he is in haste to reach the camp 
to mess with his rollicking comrades and discourse 
upon the glories of war and the delight in this signal 
victory; he is congratulating himself he has gotten be- 
yond those fragments of human beings, those mangled 
masses of his fellow-men. It has been a long-fought 
battle and it is a gory field. Philip has had some 
nerve-racking services to perform in the last four hours. 
The battle ended at three o^ clock; it is now seven. He is 
very hungry and tired, although he is too excited to 
realise this, 

73 



74 IN THE VANGUARD [act n 

Philip 

Drawing a long breath. 

Thank God, I am out of that! 

From the shadow of one of the trees comes a prolonged groan, 
Philip goes to the place from whence it comes and sees 
one of the Enemy, lying on the ground. The man had 
crawled out of the vortex of horror some hours before, 
had reached this quiet place, had become unconscious 
and is now coming back to conscious sujffering; his 
eyes are bright with fever. 

Philip 

Stooping over him with eager solicitude. 
What may I do for you, my Friend? 

The Enemy 
Hoarsely. 

You have ripped open my side — you have blown 
off my arm — you have torn my face — I don't 
think I care to have you do anything more, thank 
you. 

Philip pours water from his canteen and holds it to the 
Enemy s lips. 

Philip 
Here — take this water. 



ACT ii] IN THE VANGUARD 75 

The Enemy 
Turning away. 

Water — from you? Not if I were in Hell ! 

Philip 
Please take it from me — We are both soldiers. 

The Enemy 

I'm not a soldier now — I am just a man — ^blown 
to atoms — and cut to shreds — going out into 
the dark. 

Philip 
You are feverish. Please take this water. 

The Enemy 

I am not feverish. I am perfectly sane — sane — 
for the first time in all my life. I see clearly for 
the first time — I tell you death takes the blood- 
mist from our eyes. 

Philip 
Then, if you are sane, remember your code. 

The Enemy 

Code be damned! Men trick themselves with lies. 
I see it all now — all the artificial stuff I have 



76 IN THE VANGUARD [act n 

talked all my life. I am a lying hypocrite. Mili- 
tary glory — heroism — bravery! Bah! Why, I 
wouldn't blow a dog to atoms, for any reason, as 
I have blown my fellow-men for years — and 
never thought about it — as you have blown me. 

Philip 

Sternly, 

Don^t say that again! 

The Enemy 
With a harsh laugh. 

Ha! How particular we are about names! Call 
a man a brave soldier and his gold-embroidered 
breast swells, he is puffed up with pride. Call a 
man a murderer and he is ready to knock you 
down. 

He coughs, loses Ms breath for a moment, then continues, 
4 smiling grimly. 

You can't knock me down any farther — I am in 
the dust now — the dust of which I shall soon be 
a part. 

Philip takes a flask from his pocket and holds it to the 
Enemas lips. 

Philip 
You must take this brandy. 
The Enemy refuses the brandy. 



ACT n] IN THE VANGUARD 77 

The Enemy 

Laughing hoarsely. 

Of course! If I continued to talk the language of 
lies I should be a regulation specimen of mihtary 
tradition. But as I speak the bald truth, you 
think I am a wandering lunatic. You are a mur- 
derer, and don't you forget it — But — so — 
am — I. 
With rasping emphasis. 

We trick oiu: minds, and do not think, and if, by 
chance, we do accompHsh the difficult task of 
thinking, we don't think straight. My God! I 
have been thinking straight since I lay in this pool 
of blood. You talk about the code! What is the 
first fetich of the code? It is the unity of the army. 
If the army is a unit, working together , then each 
man has his share in each act of the whole; — every 
man that falls on the other side falls by the pur- 
pose — the intent of each soldier in the army, and 
intent is the basis of crime. I have killed in my 
time — let me see — I have been adding up since 
I lay here, before I fainted — let me see — what 
was it? I have been in the army ten years — I 
have killed about ninety-five thousand men at 
the least — probably more — Yes — I have killed 
ninety-five thousand men! — I am going to my 



78 IN THE VANGUARD [act n 

Mother's God with the murder of ninety-five thou- 
sand men on my soul — What shall I say to Him? 

A look oj awe comes into the Enemas eyes. 

What shall I say to Him? 

Philip 

I have never heard anything so utterly mad. You 
must take this brandy. 

Again, Philip puts the brandy to his mouth; again, the Enemy 
pushes it away. 

The Enemy 

The moment the scales fall from a man's eyes and 
he begins to use his brains, men give him brandy 
and say he is mad. 

Philip 
If you are sane, you will die like a soldier. 

The Enemy 

O I'll die like a soldier all right — that doesn't 
trouble me — what troubles me is that I've been 
killing like a soldier for ten years — I tell you, dy- 
ing opens the door and one sees a new view. I 
thought I was a fine hero and I find I'm just a 
common murderer — a wholesale murderer! 



ACT n] IN THE VANGUARD 79 

Philip 

Persuasively. 
Please hush! 

The Enemy 

Talking rapidly. 

Wait until you come to die, and see how differently 
you will see everything — that is — if you let 
yourself look — most men don't — they die with 
their eyes shut — as they have lived! {After a 
pause). There is another thing — I thought I was 
an atheist — I could find no scientific proof of 
God — but — I believe I beHeve in my Mother's 
God; I can't get away from Him. He has tracked 
me, — He has run me down. And now I am going 
to stand face to face with Him, straight from this 
Hell — which I made — with the murder of 
ninety-five thousand men on my soul — ninety- 
five thousand! 

Philip 

For God's sake, don't say that again — it is 
hideous. 

The Enemy 

Of course it is hideous, because it is true. If our 
boasted Unity means anything — then each man 



8o IN THE VANGUARD [act n 

the army killed as a whole, / killed in intent^ as a 
part of that whole. 

Philip 

Irrelevantly. 

But the glory of dying for one's country! 

The Enemy 
With harsh emphasis, 

I told you before and I tell you again — thafs not 
the question. I am glad to die for my Country! 
That's all right! But I know — now that I come 
to die — that it is not so glorious to sin for Her. 

Philip 

Impatiently. 
Sin for Her? 

The Enemy 

Yes, sin for Her! Killing is against the Law — the 
law of God — the law of Society — the inner law 
of Conscience. Calling it fine names doesn't 
change it. It has been murder in the first degree, 
for it was intent. Every shot the army fired was 
intended — aimed — planned to kill, and I was a 
part of each purpose — each intenL 
After a pattse. 



ACT ii] IN THE VANGUARD 8i 

I never bothered with reHgion, but I worked hard 
in settlement work and talked all the jargon of the 
day. I spent two whole nights, once, trying to 
save a poor wretch for his family; and yet, I have 
blown to bits ninety-five thousand of my fellow- 
men — and never thought about it! Isn't it 
funny? 

Philip 
Distressed. 

I must not argue with you — you are too ill; but 
perhaps it will comfort you if I remind you that, 
when men fight for principle, for a moral question, 
the intent is justified. 

The Enemy 
Excitedly. 

O it doesn't hurt me to talk. You are right — 1 am 
feverish — It hasn't made me delirious — it has 
cleared my brain, but it strings up my tongue — to 
talk. You may argue all you will but, for God's 
sake, don't talk twaddle to a dying man! 

Philip 
It is the truth. 

The Enemy 

Excitedly, 

It is not the truth. Once, when I was sheriff, I 



82 IN THE VANGUARD [act n 

protected an assassin from being torn to pieces by 
the mob, which he really deserved. He had killed 
one man only, and, by the measure of his own 
conscience, he had — what was to him — a high- 
flown moral motive. I talked with him and really 
felt him to be sincere — and yet I loathed him; and 
I have shot ninety-five thousand men and patted 
myself on the back for a soldier. Bosh! A sane 
mind that thinks straight can't make those two 
codes match. 



Philip 
Pardon me, my dear Sir, but you are quite cra^! 



The Enemy 
Smiling grimly. 

You mean dying has made me quite sane — at last. 
Listen to me — Here we are — two Nations with 
different traditions, different religions, different 
standards of morals — why, it is only the educated 
amongst us who can even speak each other's 
language — how can we understand each other's 
point of view? I felt, when I came to this war, that 
if ever a Nation had been base and false, You 
had — a breaker of faith — a meddler — a — 



ACT n] IN THE VANGUARD 83 

Philip 

Sternly. 

That will do! 

The Enemy 
I honestly did; and — you seem an honest man •— 
perhaps you had something of the same feeling 
about us — 

Philip 
Sharply. 

Rather! 

The Enemy 
There you go! Now don't you see we can't both 
be right — we can't both be working for a true 
principle — it's tommy-rot. You kill me for 
righteousness and I kill you for righteousness — 
Don't you see it's silly? Don't you see that the 
only thing that might justify murder becomes 
its condemnation? If you and I each honestly 
thought we were morally right, then it was a 
matter for arbitration, not for murder. 

Philip 

In distress. 

My Friend! If I did not do it before, I am cer- 
tainly committing murder now by permitting you 
to talk. 



84 IN THE VANGUARD [act n 

The Enemy 

With the first touch of pathos in his voice. 

let me talk! Let me talk! I shall be quiet 
enough soon! It eases me to talk. Ever had 
fever? Something flames within you and it loosens 
the tension to talk. I could talk — and talk • — and 
talk — and — 

He loses consciousness. Philip bends over him and bathes his 
face with water; after a moment, the Enemy opens his 
eyes. 

Philip 

With solicitude. 

1 must go for help — our men are near. 

The Enemy 
Laughing hoarsely. 

That's funny too. Blow a man to pieces in the 
name of patriotism, and then try to patch the 
pieces together in the name of humanity. It's 
really comic when you come to think about it — 
I won't be party to such a farce any longer. 
There's no help for me now, and besides — I 
wouldn't take it from an enemy! 

There is an awful silence, broken only by the ominous sound 
in the man's throat and by piteous sounds that come 
from the battle-field. 



ACT n] IN THE VANGUARD 85 

The Enemy 

His voice broken and failing. 

Mary — Mary — the roses — in the garden — 
Put your head upon my breast — No — it is wet 
with blood — it will hurt your beautiful hair. 

Philip, very pale and with something new in his eyes, leans 
over the Enemy, 

The Enemy 

Brokenly. 

Universal Brotherhood — those are your words, 
Mary! Say, old Chap — give us your hand — 

He tries to move his only hand toward Philip. Philip takes it 
tenderly. 

The Enemy 

Uni — vers — al Brotherhood — 

Ee dies. 
The twilight fades and all is dark. After a time, out of the 

darkness, the voice of Philip is heard speaking slowly in 

level tones, 

Philip 
He is my Brother — and I have killed him! 



ACT II 

SCENE III 



ACT n 

SCENE III 

The Next Day 

In the Enemy s Country, Sunrise 

A wooded place about a quarter of a mile from the hattle-field. 
Philip, with a face as grey as ashes , and with head 
bent in profound thought, is walking through the woods. 

The General enters from the right, 

Philip straightens himself and salutes. 

The General 

Cordially, 

Ah! Lieutenant. You are the very man I wished 
to see. I was intending to send for you this morn- 
ing. I took note of you again, yesterday. {Scan- 
ning his face), Beelzebub! What's the matter? 
Not used to fields after battle, eh? You'll get used 
to it, young man, as you get older. A fighter like 
you gets over being squeamish. Don't like battle- 
fields myself — they turn my stomach the next 
day, but I had to come out to look for some of my 
boys; they go too fast, poor fellows! But God 
be praised! There are others to take their places. 

89 



Qo IN THE VANGUARD [act n 

You will step into Captain Mett's shoes. You 
fought like a tiger, yesterday. I watched you. 

Philip 
In a tone of distress. 

Please don't, Sir. 

The General 
Why Don't? Modest, eh? I like that. I will see 
to it that you have the Commission at once. 

Philip 

Very pale. 

I cannot take it. Sir. 

The General 
Beelzebub, the Prince of Devils! Are you crazy? 

Philip 
I do not know — perhaps — but — 

The General 
Have you seen a ghost? 

Philip 
Solemnly, 

Yes, Sir. 

The General laughs. 

I have seen the Holy Ghost. 



ACT n] IN THE VANGUARD 91 

The General 

'Pon my soul — you are a blasphemous young 
devil! 

Philip 

With hesitation. 

I have had a vision of — of — what I suppose men 
call the Holy Spirit — I have been face to face 
with it all night — It is something one cannot put 
into words. 

The General 

Curtly. 

I beg you will not try to put it into words — the 
less said about it, the better! If you have been up 
all night you need your breakfast — that's what's 
the matter with you. Go — Get it! Then come 
to me and talk sense. 

I salute you, Captain. 

The General salutes playfully and goes off to the left. Philip 
salutes the General^ looking after him affectionately y 
as he walks away with firm military bearing. 

Philip 
Desperately. 

How can I make him see? I should rather storm 
a breach or scale a wall than face that talk with 
him. He has been kind, so very good to me. 



92 IN THE VANGUARD [act ii 

But, the truth seems clear to me now, the argu- 
ments unanswerable — all night they have been 
marshalling themselves — yet I can foresee the 
utter futility of trying to make him see. I can 
foresee the iron-clad impregnability of his mind. 
Leave the army? — Refuse a Commission? — Re- 
fuse ever to pull the trigger again or use the sword? 
— Request only to carry the colours until my 
time is served? — He will not strike me in anger — 
he is too just for that, and too discerning; — but 
God knows that bullets would be soft compared 
with the epithets I can hear him hurling at me — 
"lunatic,'' "idiot," "fool," and — worst of all — 
" sentimentalist." And yet, God help me, I can do 
no other way. I must stop killing my fellow-men. 
Last night, it was as though a door opened in my 
mind, and through the long night I thought and 
thought — and fought and fought. Tradition, 
false standards fell away. I saw the ethical con- 
tradiction of war. 

True civilisation must mean Construction — not 
Destruction; it must be unto Life — not unto 
Death. There must be a better way to settle our 
difficulties, and every man who accepts war helps 
to retard the finding of that better way. I never 
thought of that before — but now that I have 
thought of it, I dare not go on. 



ACT n] IN THE VANGUARD 93 

After a pau^e. 

Captain! — Captain! And I must give it up! 
What is any fight compared to a fight like this — a 
fight with my own soul? — I hoped — I worked — 
I won — and now — Elsa! Elsa! I have lost you! 

He throws himself upon the ground beside a tree and covers 
his face with his hands. 



ACT in 

SCENE I 



ACT m 

SCENE I 

One Month Later 

In the Enemy s Country 

A wooded place. Three soldiers are sitting on the ground 
drinking heavily and singing. 



Singing, 



The Soldiers 

here's to the Girl, 

With the bonny, bonny curl. 
And the laughing eyes of blue! 

1 told her we must part; 
And it broke her tender heart. 
Though I vowed I would be true. 

I can see her even yet. 
With her pretty cheeks as wet 
As the roses bathed in dew. 
O the bonny, bonny Girl, 
With the bonny, bonny curl, 
And tears in her eyes of blue! 

97 



98 IN THE VANGUARD [act in 

First Soldier 
That white-livered Gordon goes, to-morrow, thank 
God! He contaminates the camp. 

Second Soldier 
The renegade! The cursed traitor! Let's beat 
him out of camp, with a leather strap! He hasn't 
fired a shot since that night. He ought to have 
been court-martialed. What's the matter with 
the General, anyhow? 

First Soldier 
There is something behind all this — men don't 
throw up promotion for nothing and Generals 
don't let them. They say that he hoodooed the 
General. He offered a Commission to Gordon and 
he refused point blank to take it, snivelled to go 
home — and the General did not have him shot! 

Third Soldier 
But they say the General was furious; they had a 
terrible row and talked for hours. 

First Soldier 

Scornfully. 

Row? The only kind of a row he should have with 
a man like that was to shoot him like a weasel. 



ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 99 

Second Soldier 
He's let the damned traitor carry the flag. 

Third Soldier 
He had to serve until his time was up! 

First Soldier 
It's up to-day, thank God! I am sick of seeing the 
coward. 

Third Soldier 
O give the devil his due! He carried the colours 
into the thickest of the fight every time. He 
seemed to be running after death. 

Second Soldier 
He's ashamed to live — that's why. 

Third Soldier 
That shows he isn't a coward, any way. 

First Soldier 
I'd coward him if I got hold of him. 

Thieo) Soldier 
Now, see here, I'm not stuck on him. And all 
this Sunday School peace business makes me 



loo IN THE VANGUARD [act hi 

gag — this rot about arbitration — arbitration be 
damned! You might as well talk about two 
hungry bull-dogs arbitrating over a bone as to 
talk of angry nations arbitrating a quarrel! But 
I can't honestly call Gordon a coward. I think 
he's a fool, a blasted fool, but not a coward. It 
took more courage to do what he did than to fight 
a thousand battles, and he has been to the front 
ever since; why the devil he don't get shot the 
Lord only knows. 

First Soldier 
He's dead already — that's why. 

Third Soldier 
Hold up now! He's a pretty live man, and don't 
you forget it! I'd advise you not to try any of 
your funny business with him. 

The Soldiers glare at him. 

First Soldier 
Holy Peter! What luck! There he comes! I'll 
give him a piece of my mind! 

Second Soldier 
I'll give him a taste of my fist! 
The two Soldiers try to rise. 



ACT in] IN THE VANGUARD loi 

Third Soldier 

Laying a detaining hand on his two companions. 

Sit still you, both of you — you're too full to ex- 
change compliments with anyone, just now. 

First Soldier 
Let me alone, I say! 

Second Soldier 
Leave go! 

Enter Philip in the uniform of a private. The First and 
Second Soldier break away from the detaining hand 
of the Third Soldier — they rise and go toward Philip 
unsteadily. 

First Soldier 
In a thick voice. 

So you are ruiming away, Mr. Traitor! 

Second Soldier 

You are a disgrace to mankind, that's what you 
are. 

Both Soldiers come nearer to Philip with clinched fists. Philip 
draws himself up to his full height j his eyes have that 
power of command, which holds the wild beast in leash 
with more surety than a blow; something powerful and 
compelling emanates from him; he speaks in the voice 
of one having authority. 



102 IN THE VANGUARD [act m 

Philip 
Stand back! 

First Soldier 

Insolently, 

I want to give you a piece of my mind. 

Philip 
I am quite ready to hear it — go on! 

Philip folds his arms and stands motionless. The Soldiers 
again start to go toward him. 

Stand back! Not one step nearer! 

The Soldiers instinctively fall tack; they mutter something 
inaudible. The Third Soldier laughs, 

I am waiting. 

The Soldiers stand awkwardly, 
Philip lifts his hat. 

If you have nothing to say, I will bid you good 
morning. 

Philip walks away; the two soldiers stare at him, open- 
mouthed. 

Third Soldier 

Sarcastically, 

Why didn't you give him a taste of your tongue? 
Why didn't you give him a taste of your fists? 



ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 103 

First Soldier 

Holy Peter! There was a blue blaze in his eyes 
that took it out of me. 

Second Soldier 
The liquor muddled me as I went to strike. 

Third Soldier 

Reflectively. 

I wonder if it was the liquor? 



ACT III 

SCENE n 



ACT III 

SCENE II 

Four Weeks Later 

The Village Green as in Act First 

Elsa and the same girls who were in the first scene are dancing 
on the Green to the mmic of their tambourines. 

First Girl 

Stopping suddenly and looking over the Common, 

Who is that? As sure as the sun shines, it's Philip 
Gordon! 

Elsa starts and stands poised for the dance. The colour sweeps 
over her face, down to the white line of her dress at the 
throat and into the soft curls of the hair on her forehead. 
She looks over the Common. 

Elba 

In a tense tone. 

Philip? — It is Philip. 

She runs swiftly away and does not look hack as she runs. 

Second GmL 

See Elsa run! Just see her run! Where is her 

107 



io8 IN THE VANGUARD [act m 

boasted Philip now? She has been blowing his 
trumpet all the year! And now she won't even 
speak to him. 

First Girl 

I — for my part — don't intend to speak to him 
either. 

The Rector's Daughter 

O we must speak to him! We are Christians, but 
we can freeze him out all the same. 

Philip appears in the distance. Ee no longer wears the uni- 
form of a soldier. He carries a travelling bag. Be- 
hind him are several small street boys, shabbily dressed, 
with bare feet; they follow Philip j mimicking his eoery 
movement and making grotesque faces and gestures in 
derision. Philip, very pale, is quite conscious of the 
boys, but he does not turn his head or show them by 
any sign that he is aware of their presence. As Philip 
and his train of mockers come in sight of the dancers, 
the boys run away and Philip alone approaches them, 
He raises his hat in greeting. The First Girl turns her 
hack. The others bow coldly. 



Minnie 

Kindly. 

Welcome home, Philip! 



ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 109 

Philip 
Thank you, Minnie. 

The Rector's Daughter 

Holding Old her hand stiffly. 

How do you do! What a little army you had 
following you! Why did your little men nm away? 

Philip 

Taking her hand and flushing hotly. 

My httle men were not sufficiently well-dressed 
to enter this distinguished presence. 

The Rector's Daughter 

Elsa ran, too. She ran when she saw you coming. 
Did you see her? 

Philip 

With quiet dignity. 
Yes — I saw her. 

The Rector's Daughter 

I wonder why! Do you remember that day she 
read us about her hero? 

Philip 
Yes, I remember. 



no IN THE VANGUARD [act m 

The Rector's Daughter 

Well, she has been worse than ever about "valiant 
heroes," as she calls them, ever since the war 
began. She was crazy about you when you were 
made Lieutenant. 

Philip 
That was kind of her. Good morning — my 
Mother is expecting me. 

The Rector's Daughter 

Hurriedly, to get it in before he escapes. 

Minnie was reading us a letter from Jack — we 
are all so proud of him, 

Philip 

Warmly, 

You well may be! I really must hurry on — my 
Mother is waiting. 

The Rector's Daughter 
Your poor Mother! 

Exit Philip. 

Minnie 
Turning to the Rector's Daughter savagely. 

Vm the Spitfire of the village — you are supposed 



ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD iii 

to be the Saint — but, upon my word, I wouldn't 
change places with you! 

The Rector's Daughter 

Surprised. 

Wouldn't you really? 

Minnie 
No — really. 

The Rector's Daughter 
In a self-satisfied tone. 
I am sure I shook hands with him! 



ACT m 

SCENE m 



ACT III 

SCENE m 

A Few Minutes Later than the Last Scene 

A sparsely furnished room in Mr. Gordon's simple house. 
Two long windows lead to a pleasant porch, which in 
summer-time becomes part of the room; one of the 
windows stands open for ventilation. On one side of the 
room, there is a door leading to the corridor, and on the 
other side is a large old-fashioned fireplace. Here a 
bright fire of balsam boughs crackles cheerfully, for 
though it is the end of May, the weather is uncertain. 

Mr. Gordon sits by the fire reading a newspaper. Mr. Gordon 
is a sallow, dyspeptic-looking man with a mouth that 
shuts like a steel trap; he is nervous and irritable, but 
to his own mind and that of his wife, he is the just 
judge whose word is law. Mrs. Gordon, an anxious 
care-worn woman, is looking out of the closed window. 

Mrs. Gordon 
Hesitatingly, 

When Philip comes, Father, I hope you will be 
kind to him — 

Mr. Gordon 

Sharply. 

He ought to be beaten with many stripes for he 

knew better. 



ii6 IN THE VANGUARD [act jn 

Mrs. Gordon 

Father! 

After a pause. 

Don't you think it is most time for Philip to come, 
Father? 

Mr. Gordon does not answer. After a pause, Mrs. Gordon 
speaks again. 

Don't you think it is most time for Philip to come, 

Father? 

Mr. Gordon does not answer. 

Father, what time is it? 

Mr. Gordon 

With nervous irritation. 

What is time? 

Mrs. Gordon 

Patiently, 

1 don't know, Father, but what time is it? 

Mr. Gordon 

Who always treats his grey-haired wife as though she were a 
child, looking at his watch. 

It is eleven o'clock; time for you to allow me to 
finish my paper. 



ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 117 

Mrs. Gordon is silenced; she continues her watch at the win- 
dow. Mr. Gordon rattles his newspaper in an em- 
photic, almost aggressive way. 

Mrs. Gordon 

Suddenly with as much excitement as she was ever known to 
show. 

There he is — there he is — Father! 





Mr. Gordon 


Sharply. 




Who? 






Mrs. Gordon 



With exaggerated patience. 

Why — Philip — Father! 

Philip's quick step is heard upon the porch and through the 
open window he comes, with eager haste, to find the 
shelter of home, after the trying ordeal of his walk across 
the Common. 

Philip 

Agitatedly. 

Mother! Father! 

Mrs. Gordon 

Kissing him. 

How do you do, my boy? 



ii8 IN THE VANGUARD [act m 

Mr. Gordon rises, throws down his paper impatiently , and 
ptUs his hands behind his back, 

Mr. Gordon 

In a tone of arraignment. 

So you are home, Philip! 

Philip holds out his hand to his father who does not take it, 

Philip 
Father! Won't you shake hands with me? 

Mr. Gordon 

Irritably. 

I don't shake hands with deserters. 

Philip 

Imptdsively. 

Father, take that back! 

Mrs. Gordon 
In a strained tone of distress. 

Don't anger your Father, Philip — he has had 
enough to bear. 

Philip 
Father, you will let me explain — 



ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 119 

Mr. Gordon 
You explained it all at unnecessary length in your 
letter; as I wrote you, it was entirely unconvincing. 
We will now drop the subject. You will have to 
find something to do. I can't support you. 

Philip 

Flushing hotly. 
Father! 

Mr. Gordon 
You won't find it easy. Of course you know that 
Stickley and Stowett will have nothing to do with 
you, — nothing whatever. No, you will not find 
it an easy task to secure work. There isn't a decent 
House in the town that will take you; the feeling 
runs high, very high; you must be prepared for 
that. Even the boys sing ditties about you in the 
street — {His voice breaks) — about my son — 
about my son — 

Philip 

With feeling. 

I am very sorry. 

Mr. Gordon 
Sharply, 

No, you are not, or you wouldn't have done it. 



120 IN THE VANGUARD [act in 

Philip 
I mean I am sorry for your distress. I must do 
what I think is right. 

Mr. Gordon 

In a tone like a whip-lash. 

Right? Right? Do you think any decent-minded 
man who ever lived would think what you have 
done is right? 

Philip 
Yes, Father. 

Mr. Gordon 
Who? 

Philip 
Jesus Christ — Confucius — Buddha — Socrates — 

Mr. Gordon 

Interrupting angrily. 

Don't quibble. It is impertinence! 

Philip 
I don't mean impertinence, Sir. Surely, with our 
boasted civiHsation, some of us at least should 
remember the wisdom of the philosophers. 



ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 121 

Mr. Gordon 

His anger rising. 
Silence! 

Mrs. Gordon 

In a flutter. 

My Son, don't annoy your Father. 

To Mr. Gordon. 

Father, you'd better get ready — it is most time 
for the Rector to come. You know you promised 
to walk with him to the meeting. {Greatly relieved) . 
There, I hear his step upon the porch, now. 

The Rector, who is entirely at home in Mr. Gordon's house- 
hold, enters informally through the open window, 

Mr. Gordon 
How do you do, Rector? 

Mrs. Gordon 
Good morning. Rector. 

The Rector 
Good morning, Mrs. Gordon. Good morning, my 
dear Warden. 

He catches sight of Philip, — his face changes — his voice 
freezes. 

How do you do? 



122 IN THE VANGUARD [act m 

Mr. Gordon 
I'll get my hat. 

Exit Mr, Gordon. 

The Rector 
To Mrs. Gordon. 

This is a very sad occasion. 

Philip 
Irritated. 

Is it a funeral? 

The Rector 

Pompously. 

Yes, my Son, it is the burial of your Father's and 
Mother's hopes. 

Philip 
Perhaps it would be well for you to read the Service 
for Malefactors over me. Doctor. 

Mrs. Gordon 

Horrified. 
Why, Philip! 

The Rector 
Don't jest, young man. You have brought trouble 
enough to this house; the affair is very sad. 



ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 123 

Mr. Gordon 

Calling from without. 
Rector! 

The Rector 
Good-bye, Mrs. Gordon. Philip, you may come to 
my study this afternoon — I will read you a ser- 
mon that I wrote upon the subject after I saw your 
letter to your Father. Come at three-thirty. 

Philip 
Thank you, but I have an engagement. 

The Rector 
Then come when you can — I will be your friend. 
"I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of Israel." 
Good-bye, Mrs. Gordon. 

Exit the Rector. 

Philip 

Turning eagerly to his Mother. 
Mother, has a letter come for me? 

Mrs. Gordon 
No, my Son. 
Laying a hand upon his arm. 

Philip, I am glad your Grandfather did not live 
to see this day. 



124 IN THE VANGUARD [act in 

Philip 

Distressed. 

Mother! You, too! 

Mrs. Gordon 

1 do not know what you mean, Philip! I have 
tried to be very kind. 

Philip 
Kind, yes — but — 

Mrs. Gordon 
You surely can't expect me to be proud of you. 

Philip 
Mother, I want to talk to you. 

Mrs. Gordon 

Now don't talk, Philip, you will only get us both 
upset. 

Philip 
But I must tell you my thought. 



ACT in] IN THE VANGUARD 125 

Mrs. Gordon 

In a sweet but obstinate voice. 

You told it all in the letter, and it did not con- 
vince your Father. 

Philip 
But Father is not you. 

Mrs Gordon 

Conclusively. 

What your Father and the Rector say cannot be 
wrong. 

Philip 

Impatiently. 

Mother, how mediaeval you are! 

Mrs. Gordon 
With air of great forbearance. 

Philip, please be respectful. I have borne a great 
deal for you. 

Philip 

Repenting of his impatience^ taking her hand and kissing it 
reverently. 

I did not mean to be disrespectful, Mother. Of 
course you are mediaeval because you look like a 



126 IN THE VANGUARD [act in 

lovely old Florentine picture. But, dear Mother, 
won't you please think for yourself? 

Mrs. Gordon 

Sweetly. 

I do think for myself, my Son. I think what your 
Father thinks. 

Philip 

I should rather you would turn me out of the 
house than — 

Mrs. Goiux)n 
Interrupting. 

You know, Philip, I would not turn you out of the 
house for anything; not even if you had committed 
murder. 

Philip 
I have. 

Mrs. Gordon 

Startled. 
What, PhiKp? 

Philip 
Committed murder. 



ACT in] IN THE VANGUARD 127 

Mrs. Gordon 

Turning pale. 

What do you mean? 

Philip 
I have killed men — 

Mrs. Gordon 
In a tone of horror, 

PhiUp! 

Philip 
In batde. 

Mrs. Gordon 

Looking mmh relieved. 

What a turn you gave me! I thought you meant 
you had actually murdered; I do not know what 
to expect from you these days. 

Philip 

I do mean just that. Killing is killing — is it not? 
Wherever it is done. 

Mrs. Gordon 
Mercy, no; that's very different. 



128 IN THE VANGUARD [act ra 

Philip 
In what way is it different? 

Mrs. Gordon 

it's different — because — it's different. 

Philip 

1 am convinced it is the very same; that is why I 
left the army; intent is the basis of crime. Many 
a man is called a murderer who did not really in- 
tend to kill, but every man I killed, I killed with 
deliberate aim and intent. 

Mrs. Gordon 
How you talk! 

Philip 
It's a fact; a dying man showed it to me, 

Mrs. Gordon 
Was he one of our soldiers? 

Philip 
No, he was an enemy. 



ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 129 

Mrs. Gordon 

Sweetly. 

And you shot him? Well, I must say I'm glad you 
killed one of the villains, anyway, before you came 
home ! But there is no use practising arguments on 
me, now, Philip, as you used to when you were 
little, about "intent" and "basis of crime'/ and 
all that lawyer talk, you won't need it any longer. 
You will have to give up the law, no one will take 
you; even Mrs. Crimmins told Mary Jane that 
her husband won't have you — and he is only a 
cheap lawyer. 

Philip 

Bitterly. 

I might break stone. 

Mrs. Gordon 

You never could. You would be more apt to 
break your back. 



Philip 

Please let me finish what I started to say to you a 
moment ago. Mother! I should rather you turned 
me out of the house feeling I was right, than be 
kind to me feeling I was wrong. 



130 IN THE VANGUARD [act m 

Mrs. Gordon 
How can wrong be right? 

Philip 

A trifle impatiently. 

Mother, have you not even a sense of humour? 

Mrs. Gordon 

Reproachfully. 

Philip, you don't mean to say you think this sad 
business is funny, do you? 

Philip 
Yes, I think it actually begins to be funny. 
Ee throws hack his head and laughs Utterly, 

Mrs. Gordon 
Patting his arm. 

There, there, now, my Boy, you are not yourself! 
Your laugh hasn't the old merry ring. 

Philip 
Bitterly, 

Hasn't it — really? How strange! 



ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 131 

Mrs. Gordon 

In a coaxing tone as though he were an infant. 

There! There! You are tired. FU go to make some 
tea and toast for you; just the kind of toast you 
like, crisp and brown. 

Philip 

Listlessly. 

Thank you, Mother! You are very kind. 

Mrs. Gordon goes to the door. Philip runs after her and lays 
a detaining hand upon her arm. 

Mother, are you sure there is no letter for me? 

Mrs. Gordon 

I have told you there is no letter. Who would 
write to you now? 

Philip 

I was expecting an answer to a letter I wrote some 
time ago. 

Mrs. Gordon 

You must not expect answers after what you have 

done. 

With the sudden intuition of the Mother. 

You expected it from one of the girls! — that 



132 IN THE VANGUARD [act hi 

Elsa-girl, perhaps — don't you know they are all 
down on you, now, every one of them? 

Philip 

Poignantly. 

I presume they are. 

Mrs. Gordon 

You ought to hear them talk, Mary Jane says. 

Catching the look in his eyes, Mrs. Gordon is sorry for him; 
she pats his hand. 

There, now, my Boy, don't worry; of course you 
will never be able to hold up your head in this town 
again. We are disgraced, as your Father says, but 
don't worry, my Boy, don't worry! 

Philip 

Bitterly. 

O no, I will not worry. 

Exit Mrs, Gordon. Philip laughs a mocking laugh. 

If I were a woman I should cry; but a man's laugh- 
ter is Salter than a woman's tears. 

His laughter ceases — he is silent for a moment. 

My God! It is worse even than I thought it could 
be — much worse — 



ACT III] IN THE VANGUARD 133 

Be leans his head upon his hands. 

I cannot bear it — I cannot bear it. 

A light step is heard in the corridor. Philip raises his headj 
the pupils of his eyes and his nostrils dilate, 

Elsa 

From the corridor. 

May I come in? Your Mother said I might. 

Elsa enters radiant and joyous. 

Philip 

Amazement and delight mingling in his voice. 

Elsa! 

Elsa 

I could not meet you before all those girls — I 
simply could not. {Exultingly.) I ran away, and 
came here — I wanted to see you alone to tell 
you I have found my Hero, Philip, at last — I 
have found my Hero! 

Philip 

Making a mighty efort to control his emotion. 
I — I hope you will be happy. 

Elsa 

In a ringing tone. 

Ah, yes, I shall be happy — very happy! 



134 IN THE VANGUARD [act in 

Philip 

Stiffly. 

I congratulate you. 

Elsa 
Coming closer, 

Philip, don't you love me any more? 

Philip 
Love you! — my God! 

Elsa 

Fascinatingly. 

But I do not think you are very polite; here I 
come — without waiting for an invitation — the 
first to do homage to my Hero — and he is as cold 
as Alpine snow. 

Philip 

In a bewildered, dazed way. 
Your Hero? — /.? 

Elsa 

Certainly! — You! A Hero is one who does the 
hardest thing and you have done the hardest 
thing, Philip — the very hardest! 



ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 135 

Philip 

Taking her in his arms, 

Elsa. 

There is a long silence, 

Philip 

Brokenly. 

I am not worthy. 

Elsa 

Decidedly. 

You are worthy of all things — You are a Hero. 

Philip 
Tenderly. 

Ah! No — I am only a struggling man, who sees 
a coming light that all the world will some day see. 

Elsa 

A look as of a white flame comes into her eyes; her manner is 
that of a prophetess. 

All the world will some day see — and that day is 
not far off! 

Philip 

Greatly surprised. 
You believe that? 



136 IN THE VANGUARD [act m 

Elsa 

I know it! I have changed — thank God — I 
have changed! 

Philip, my Love, I have something very wonderful 
to tell you! 

With sweet dignity she takes his hand and leads him to a 
settle; she takes of her hat and throws it from her; then 
she kneels upon the floor before him and clasps hath 
hands upon his knee. 

That night you were on the battle-field, keeping 
your vigil beside the dead, I, too, kept a vigil. It 
was the same night — I compared the dates when 
I received your letter — your beautiful letter! 
I cannot explain what happened — I cannot under- 
stand it — but I dare not deny it! If we receive 
wireless messages from across the sea, why may 
we not receive a wireless message from the stars? 
Why may we not receive it from beyond the stars? 
I will tell you the facts exactly as they happened. 
I went to sleep that night thinking of you; Minnie 
had had a letter from Jack that afternoon; and 
she told me what fine things he said of you, of 
your bravery and of your promotion to Lieu- 
tenant; — you know Jack's amusing way of put- 
ting things — I laughed in the darkness — and 
then I feU asleep. 



ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 137 

Suddenly I was awakened by a call — I thought 
it was your voice, calling Elsa, Elsa. I was fright- 
ened — O so frightened — I jumped up and ran 
to the window — it was dark; there were clouds 
in the sky — I knelt at the window, looking out 
into the night; and then, again I heard the voice — 
and I knew it was not yours: it was deep and 
terrible; it sounded like a bell tolling across meas- 
ureless waters — but every word was clear, dis- 
tinct. "Woe, woe," cried the voice; "woe unto 
those who break the bonds of Brotherhood; woe 
tmto those who lay waste the pleasant places of 
the earth; woe unto those who fan the powers of 
enmity and hate; woe unto those who have called 
false things true, cruel things brave, and barbar- 
ous things of good report." Philip, I was so 
frightened! 

Philip 

Tenderly laying Us hand upon her head. 
Dear Heart. 

Elba 

Then, all was still. And as I knelt there, it was 
just as you said in your letter — It was as though 
a window opened in my mind; — I seemed to see 
rivers of blood, hideous masses of horror, to hear 



138 IN THE VANGUARD [act in 

the piteous cries of women and children and the 
moans and curses of those who died in the lust of 
battle. I remembered how I had thought only of 
the gorgeous surface show that covered the ghastly 
reality ; at last, I saw the truth. I knew — I under- 
stood — and I was ashamed. I shuddered as I 
knelt there — I thought I could not bear it. 

Eer voice breaks — she is quiet for a moment — Philip holds 
the pregnant silence; he does not intrude upon it with 
a word or with a touch. 

Suddenly, the clouds lifted, the morning star rose 

clear and beautiful, the dawn broke, and the rosy 

light came over the hills. 

Then, another voice — melodious, musical — 

spoke these words — 

"Fear not! Behold, a new order is dawning upon 

the earth. Wars shall cease. Peace shall knit the 

world together in a bond of common Brotherhood." 

PHTLiP 

With deep emotion. 

My Beloved! 

Elba 

I have told no one, for they would not understand 
— perhaps they would not believe — but I longed 



ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 139 

to tell you — I began a letter — I began twenty — 
but I could not write — it was too sacred. As I 
was wondering how I could write it, I received 
your letter. When I read that — O Philip! — 
Then I knew the message had been sent to pre- 
pare me to be your mate ! The new order is dawn- 
ing upon the earth — and you are in the vanguard! 

Philip 
We are together! 

He kisses her with exaltation, 

Elsa 

Radiantly. 

And now, together, side by side, we will watch for 
the Morning. 

A shadow comes over Philip's face, Elsa, seeing it, draws 
nearer to him, 

Elsa 
What is it, Philip? 

Philip 

Dejectedly, 

Elsa, we must wait. 

Elsa 
Wait! For what? 



I40 IN THl^^ VANGUARD [act m 

Philip 
Until I may claim you. 

Elsa 

Enchantingly. 

Here I am, Philip. 

Philip 

Taking her hand. 

I must be able to take care of you — I must find 
something to do. I am penniless. 

Elba 
What do I care for money? 

Philip 

Nothing — therefore I must care for it for you. 
I must find employment. No one will have me, 
here; I must go away. I may have to break stone 
or split wood. 

Elsa 

Putting her arms about him. 

Where you go, I will go, your stone shall be my 
stone, and your wood shall be my wood. I will — 



ACT in] IN THE VANGUARD 141 

There is a knock at the door; they starts rise and move apart. 
Enter Mr, Greart. 

Mr. Greart 

Cordially, 

Your Mother told me to come in. I never had the 
honour of being in this house before. 

Philip 

Going towards him welcomingly. 

The honour is ours, Sir. 

Mr. Greart 

Grasping Philips s hand. 

Welcome home! 

Turning to Elsa, 

You got the start of me, my fair Atlanta; I had 
hoped to be the first to welcome home this young 
soldier; he used to be one of my boys, you know. 

Philip 

Greatly embarrassed. 

Mr. Greart, I am not a soldier any longer — I — 
I — 

Mr. Greart 
Oh! I know all about that — I saw your letter 



142 IN THE VANGUARD [act m 

to Stickley. You don't think I mean that kind of 
a soldier, do you? I mean a Soldier of the Durable. 

Seeing the questioning look in Philips s eyes and the response 
in Elsa^s, 

Can't stop, now, to explain what I mean by a 
Soldier of the Durable — Elsa understands. I 
have a matter of business I wish to settle, at once, 
without delay. 



Taking up her hat. 
Good-bye. 



Elsa 



Mr. Greart 



No, stay, Elsa — it isn't private. It is only that 
I wish this young man to take charge of my legal 
affairs. Will you. Sir? 

Pmup 
In a tone of amazement. 

Mr. Greart — 

Mr. Greart 

I hope you will do me that favour. You can name 
your own price — anything — anything you please 
— if you will only get me out of the clutches of 
Stickley and Stowett. I am sick to death of their 



ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 143 

dreary demurrers, their tiresome red tape, their 
everlasting quibbles, and their fussy fidgets. 
I want a man with logic and despatch; one who 
treats the Law like a live thing, to clear the way, 
not block it. 

Philip 

Abashed. 

Mr. Greart — if I could — 

Mr. Greart 

Oh! You can all right. As I said, I saw your long 
letter to Stickley, setting forth the reasons why 
you left the army. By Gad, it was logical! Logical 
and concise — not a word too much; no, nor a 
word too little. You are the man I want. 



Philip 
Thank you, Sir. 

Mr. Greart 

I won't stand in your way; later you can take a 
wider sweep. In fact, my friend Vandeveer, in 
the city, tells me he will be looking for a new 
partner next year. 



144 IN THE VANGUARD [act in 

Philip 
In a tone of amazement, 

Vandeveer! 

Mr. Greart 

Yes, that is a berth! Isn't it? You will be all 
right with him. So will he with you. I advised 
him for his own good. But I wish you, first. May 
I coimt on you? 

Philip 

With dignity and modesty. 

I will do all I can, Sir: I am very grateful. 

Elsa 

Taking Mr. Grearfs hand. 
You dear! 

Mr. Greart 
There, there, Elsa. 

Elsa 

B&witchingly. 

You will have to take me, too — because — I — 
we — 



ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 145 

Mr. Greart 

Ah! Atlanta, I am not as dull as I look. I took 
that into account; but, let me tell you, if I wasn't 
an old greyhead I shouldn't take you by proxy. 
That young man would have to look out for him- 
self. 

Elba 

Bending and kissing Mr, Grearfs hand. 

There is a little piece of me that v\dll always belong 
to you — just only to you — always, always. 
Mr, Greart lays his hand on Elsa^s head. 

Elsa 

Mr, Greart, I was wrong — You are right: War is 
wicked. 

Mr. Greart 

I had no fear for you. I knew you would change 
your point of view the moment you allowed your 
logical mind to think! That, you had never really 
done. You took the symbol for the substance, 
the livery for the life! 

Through the open window the boys are heard, singing as 
they pass. 



146 m THE VANGUARD [act m 

The Boys 

Singing. 

Get your gun, get your gun, 
And shoot them every one. 
Let them fly, let them die, 
Let them perish as they run. 
Get your gun, get your gun, 
go and get your gun! 

Mr. Greart 

Indignantly. 

That is the way our boys' morals are stunted and 
blimted. It is abominable! Unspeakable! War 
is Hell. Even our generals admit that — but they 
think that when war is over, the Hell is ended. 
They forget that the miasma of Hell spreads over 
the country and taints the Kttle children, affecting 
them for life. How long, O Lord — how long will 
it take men to see that two and two make four? 

Philip 

Perhaps they must wait until they have a Vision, 
as I had. 

Elsa 
Or until they hear a Voice of Prophecy, as I did. 



ACT m] IN THE VANGUARD 147 

Mr. Greart 

Not at all. All they have to do is to think to the 
root of the matter. I am not given to the modern 
superstition. I never had a revelation in my life 
nor heard a voice that wasn't human; and as for 
prophecy! Each man is the prophet of his own 
Destiny. No, it is a simple question of logic, of 
public economy, of common sense, of mathe- 
matics, of two and two making four. 

Philip 
I see that, also, now. 

Mr. Greart 

Moreover, War is evil because it breaks the Su- 
preme Law of the Universe, — 

Philip 
Questioningly. 

The Supreme Law of the Universe? 

Mr. Greart 

The Law of Harmony — that is the Supreme 
Law. To break the Law of Harmony is the un- 
pardonable sin. 



148 IN THE VANGUARD [act m 

Elsa 

Looking archly up at Mr, Greart. 
And Love? — 

Mr. Greart 

With memory in his eyes. 

Love is the fulfilling of the Law. 



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" A forceful interpretation of events in the light of economics." 

7 



Smith — The Spirit of American Govermnent. By J. Allen Smith. 
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— Brooklyn Daily Eagle. 

Valentine - How to Keep Hens for Profit. By C. S. Valentine. 

" Beginners and seasoned poultrymen will find in it much of 
value." — Chicago Tribune. 

Van Dyke — The Gospel for a World of Sin. By Henry Van 
Dyke. 
" One of the basic books of true Christian thought of to-day and of 
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Van Dyke — The Spirit of America. By Henry Van Dyke. 

" Undoubtedly the most notable interpretation in years of the real 
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Veblen — The Theory of the Leisure Class. By Thorstein B. 

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" The most valuable recent contribution to the elucidation of this 

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Vedder — Socialism and the Ethics of Jesus. By Henry C. 

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" A timely discussion of a popular theme." — New York Post. 

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" As a presentation of Socialistic thought as it is working to-day, 
this is the most judicious and balanced discussion at the disposal of 
the general reader." — World To-day. 

8 



Weyl — The New Democracy. By Walter E. Weyl. 

" The best and most comprehensive survey of the general social 
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years." 

White — The Old Order Changeth. By William Allen White. 

*' The present status of society in America. An excellent antidote 
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Baltimore Sun. 



AN IMPORTANT ADDITION TO THE MACMILLAN 
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THE WAVERLEY NOVELS. By Sir Walter Scott 

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Kenil worth The Surgeon's Daughter 
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II 



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13 



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